


Sisterhood of the Magical Trousers

by ConstructiveRomance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstructiveRomance/pseuds/ConstructiveRomance
Summary: A pair of charmed jeans that helped you get the bloke you fancy? Ginny was sceptical. Hermione was insistent - until the consequences came knocking.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	Sisterhood of the Magical Trousers

The magical trousers became something of a myth among the girls of Hermione's age group in their youth. She had even heard people gossiping about them on occasion, hushed whispers about a greater power, a divine charm. One time, Hermione had even returned from dinner and found her trunk ransacked for them.

It started in a moment of exasperation mixed with more than a little madness. Hermione had returned to Hogwarts following the final battle along with most of her friends, to her surprise. It took a lot of cajoling, lecturing - and _okay,_ a bit of pleading - to get Harry and Ron back. The former had been infinitely easier, what with his painstaking 'I need to earn my way' mantra and the fervent desire to not have his memory of Hogwarts tarnished forever. Who wanted to remember it as a pile of smoking, bloodstained, ashen rubble?

Ron had taken longer. It wasn't Hermione at all who convinced him, but his spritely younger sister. Fred's death was a fresh war everyday, one that was compounded upon by the Burrow and it's reminders lurking in the corners. Molly had become rather overbearing in the months following the battle, her eyes skittering towards the Weasley clock even when everyone was sitting around her. Ginny needed to go back to Hogwarts, and Ron didn't want to leave her alone.

Hermione felt a mild whine of pain in her tummy at the thought of her friend, Ron. What had built up over years, a mounting tension, was left in tatters by a war that unturned every facet of their lives. She couldn't shake the fact that he left - as a _partner_ it was hard for her to forgive. Hermione couldn't be there for him like he needed, didn't react to the grief and return to normalcy with the same level of single-mindedness. Which was certainly a turn.

Nonetheless, they adjusted back to Hogwarts within a couple of months. Nightmares persisted, flashbacks made surprise appearances at the most inopportune times, but there was a newfound empathy that ran among the student body. People were more careful, aware; they looked out for each other.

Parties seemed never ending. It was a distraction, one that Hermione wasn't particularly fond of but she understood the purpose, she could appreciate it.

The only problem on one particular night was the annoying, whining voice of one Ginny Weasley. Now, not to be mistaken, Hermione loved Ginny as if they were sisters, but they shared a dorm and spent plenty of time together. She was quite finished listening to the pining after their Gryffindor house mate.

"It's just, we got so _close_ last year and I thought - I thought there was something happening, you know? But - but he won't even look over here! It's like he doesn't see me, like -"

"Like he doesn't even notice you," Hermione finished flatly, raising a brow at her friend. They were leaning against the wall in the common room, next to the window, and had been practicing their charms homework prior to the conversation.

Ginny coloured, "Have I been talking about this a bit much? It's just with Harry you knew _exactly_ what was needed."

_Oh._ She wanted a game plan. Hermione wasn't sure how she, of all people, became an expert on boys. This was different, Hermione didn't know Neville all that well, and certainly not like she knew Harry. Ginny and her best friend had never really resumed their romance after the war; too much had developed, too much time elapsed. They were different people and it seemed like they were too exhausted to try relearn each other.

There had been a conversation at some stage during the Summer, one that Hermione was not privy to, and it ended. Things were awkward until they returned to Hogwarts. It took plenty of forced time together for Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry to return to a natural friendly demeanor.

Ginny needed something good. Hermione had spent so many nights with her, brushing away tears and talking about Fred in hushed tones. It couldn't hurt to have a pick-me-up, right?

Hermione's brain raced as Ginny watched her earnestly, and to buy time while she thought of a plan, she asked, "Since when have you had problems with boys, anyway? You're way better at this than me,"

"Not when it takes more than a flick of my hair," She scoffed, her eyes finally leaving Hermione to look across toward the boys sitting on the couches. Neville sat there with Harry, Ron and Seamus. "I always liked him, but he was just so - so -"

"Nice?"

" _Fit,_ last year. And now." She sighed, "I'll distract myself with someone in the meantime I suppose. I can't exactly put him under a spell, can I?"

Bing. Hermione's mind finally lit up, why hadn't she thought of it before?

She grabbed the other girls arm, forcing her attention, and cried in excitement, "Ginny! How could I have forgotten? Come on, I have the perfect thing," Without another word, Hermione grabbed the redheads hand, and pulled her up the dormitory steps towards the room. She was so thrilled with finally realising how she could help that Hermione stumbled a couple of times in her rush.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Ginny asked, catching her breath. Being as athletic as she was, it was considerably less winded than Hermione.

She ignored the question and dove for her trunk, rummaging with abandon, something she would grumble about later. As she reached the bottom, Hermione finally struck gold and dragged up a pair of navy, muggle jeans. "I've got it!"

"Er, trousers? Are you mad?"

Hermione shook her head fervently, "Not at all. Don't you know how I got Viktor to notice me in fourth year? These jeans, Ginny. I created a very complicated charm and applied it to them. We can resize them for you. The charm attracts the boy you're interested in, moves things along a bit."

Ginny eyed the garment with a healthy dose of scepticism, "You… _created_ a charm?"

Hesitating, Hermione finally nodded, "You know how obsessive I am. Once I got the idea, I couldn't leave it alone. I knew I'd need a date to the Yule Ball and, well, knew I didn't have the best reputation in Hogwarts. Know-it-all, isn't that what they call me?" She smiled wryly, far past the hurt of a name that encompassed a quality that had saved her life many times.

She slowly took the jeans into her hands, feeling the fabric, "I thought Krum liked you?"

"He did.. This just helped him see me. It could be best explained as a notice-me-not charm in reverse. It won't make someone have feelings for you, it's not Amortentia,"

Silence reigned for a minute, Hermione watched as Ginny felt up the jeans. Her eyes flicked up then, and she sighed, "I suppose I don't have anything to lose, right?"

Hermione clapped her hands together, "Yes! Exactly. You can wear them on Friday when we all listen to the wireless."

At the formation of a plan, Ginny perked, "Good idea, with the charm, and the jeans looking good, he won't be able to resist."

"It would be impossible," Hermione nodded, privately hoping that Neville was as interested as she thought. Who wouldn't be interested in Ginny Weasley, after all?

She threw the trousers down on her bed and turned, "You'll have to wear muggle clothing, too, or I'll stick out like a sore thumb."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You seriously owe me after all this."

They sat on their respective beds, grabbing their face wash and cream for the nightly routine before heading towards the bathroom. Ginny was contemplative as she brushed her teeth, surveying Hermione, until she finally spit out the toothpaste, "I do owe you, we'll have to think of something. Maybe I can hook you up with one of the new Quidditch guys."

"A _Quidditch_ player? Be still my heart," Hermione laughed, nudging her friend out of the way.

"Oi, that's most of your friends you're insulting,"

"I can live with that, I reckon,"

The two women smiled widely and then Hermione studiously moved conversation onto safer, nicer topics, like transfiguration classes. The truth of it, the unvarnished, hopeless, dire truth of it was that the only thing that made Hermione's heart beat a little faster was a pair of green eyes.

She didn't like it. She certainly didn't want to act on it. But somewhere between huddling in the glow of a blue flame and seeing his lifeless body, Hermione realised she was utterly bereft without him. Friendship didn't seem enough anymore, it was such a meagre word to describe what they shared. She didn't think it was just her - sometimes she was sure he purposely sought time alone with her, even if it was to sit in quiet. There was a sense of peace together. Maybe it was habit; something familiar in this too often uncomfortable, post-war world.

Maybe it was that they were perfect for each other, and she would curse herself for not realising that before dating their other best friend.

* * *

Friday arrived quicker than Hermione would like. Even though this relationship had nothing to do with her, she felt somewhat responsible, as if she was taking as big a risk as Ginny. It was a little ridiculous when she allowed herself to think about it: everyone knew every man would trip over themselves for a chance with the youngest Weasley. It was a common fact.

Hermione had it on good authority that even _Slytherins_ had picked up on this obvious fact.

She supposed that was the issue when you really liked someone. The confidence and certainty no longer seemed so easy, not when you cared so much.

Hermione was dressed in blue jeans and a simple red, fitted t-shirt. She had loaned Ginny a maroon sweater to go with the charmed jeans, and used some spells from a book they found in the library to alter them to her shape.

"How do I look?" She asked Hermione, finally appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

Hermione handed her a cup of something that tasted vaguely like wine, "Fantastic, now get over there." She accepted the cup and took a deep gulp. Like a soldier obeying orders, Ginny nodded stiffly and then pranced over to where Neville was sitting with Seamus. She sat on the armchair, touching his arm lightly to let him know she had arrived.

He gave her a bright smile, turning his body so it was now angled toward Ginny. Hermione studied their body language for a few more minutes, trying to analyse whether she needed to try to save her friend from heartbreak or not.

"Why are we staring creepily at Seamus?" Hermione jumped at the voice, her drink spilling over the edge a little. "Woah, sorry, didn't realise you were that into it,"

Hermione glared at Harry's grin, "I'm not _that into it."_

"Just a bit into it?"

She nudged him, "Sod off. Where's Ron?"

Harry shrugged, "Last I saw him he was chatting to Hannah Abbott outside the Great Hall."

She gestured to Harry to walk over to the table and chairs by the wall, and he followed. Once they were seated, Hermione leaned in, "Are they… _you know.."_

Harry tilted his head, " _You know..?_ "

Hermione's ire rose at that, frustrated by his purposeful ignorance. He knew what she meant! She grumbled under her breath for a minute, choosing to overlook his laugh, and continued, "Is he into her?"

"I've no idea, to be honest," Harry said, taking a swig of his firewhiskey, "Would - would you mind if he was?"

This was dangerous territory, she knew. Hermione and Harry tried their best to avoid the often awkward topic of dating, lest she tell him how fanciable he was. That held all new implications, and really, he was more fanciable than ever now - he had _defeated_ Voldemort. That came with a certain intensity that some girls were not into though, which was fine with Hermione. She would be happy if the trio could stay as they were for a long time.

Harry groaned, "I'm taking that as a yes. Here, no more birds this time, yeah?"

She couldn't help the heat that rose in her cheeks in response, "The birds were a minor lapse in judgement. He was being a tosser though." She started to draw little circles in the condensation on her glass, anything to distract her from looking at him, "And no, I don't fancy him anymore, if that's what you're asking me. Everything is a bit different now, isn't it?"

He took a moment to respond, which caused her eyes to flicker nervously to him. She followed his line of vision and realised he was the one now watching Neville and Ginny, his expression unreadable. It wasn't the wistful, longing she saw on him so often in sixth year though. For that reason alone, Hermione felt a modicum of relief.

"Everything is a lot different," Harry finally said, and his glance swung back to her. Hermione simultaneously hated and loved when his eyes were so singularly focused on her as they were now; she was under his scrutiny, she was sure he could see through every laugh and smile she gave him; but she loved the way it seemed like his attention was absolutely devoted to her. His eyes were beautiful, too, and absently she thought it made sense why no one ever forgot what Lily Evans-Potters eyes looked like.

He opened his mouth again, but suddenly Hermione's vision was obscured by tufts of red hair. Ginny threw her arms around Hermione and whispered in her ear, "We're going for a walk! Bloody hell, Hermione, I thought you were taking the piss with these trousers but they _work."_

Harry was looking at them with undisguised curiosity and she shrugged meekly at him before saying to Ginny, "I'm so glad, enjoy!"

Hermione replayed Ginny's words for a moment. _The jeans work._ She had a feeling she would regret that.

* * *

It was three weeks later when Hermione was accosted in the hallway between classes. It was probably a wise move, Hermoine was at her weakest when deeply discussing what the class topic would be and how she would approach the homework, all the while rushing to the next subject.

On this day, she was in the middle of a particularly long-winded explanation to Neville on the merits and downfalls of a bezoar, "Oh, it will save a life to be sure, but do you know how we form these potions ingredients? As wizards and witches, we often don't think twice about where our ingred-"

Hermione's arm was abruptly grabbed and clutched to someone's chest. "Hello, Neville, Harry. You look well. Do you mind if I have a word in private with Hermione?"

She blinked at her friend, indignance drowned by her confusion. It was extremely rare for Luna to seek out Hermione, they were friends but that didn't mean they spent a whole lot of time alone together. Her brow crinkled, panic beginning to balloon in her chest, "Luna, is something wrong? Are you okay? What's happened?"

Luna brought her to a secluded alcove and _cooed_ in response, "There, there, Hermione. Everything is okay."

Hermione sighed, realising that this was not a panic worthy moment, but the sudden loss of adrenalin was leaving her tired and impatient. Only the soothing tone of Luna's voice prevented her from snapping at the girl, "What do you need?"

"Have you been sleeping okay? Daddy published an excellent article last week on how the Timore's have been lingering by our beds at night lately. Record populations." She began digging in her bag, and then produced a battered but intact daisy, "Put this under your pillow, it will help."

Hermione stared for a beat. Slowly, she reached out and took the proffered flower, "Um, thanks. I think it's the nightmares that cause the bags under my eyes but.. But, hey, it couldn't hurt to try this." She forced out the words, hoping it didn't sound like her teeth were gritted. It took all of Hermione's willpower not to launch into a detailed explanation of why that was absurd.

Luna beamed, "Excellent. Will you be attending Dean's birthday on Saturday?"

She waved her hand, "Probably, yes, I forget what's planned each weekend. Never a dull moment, but I do need to study, you know the N.E. are just around the cor-"

"Yes, yes, quite. I was hoping I could borrow a pair of jeans from you that Ginevra mentioned. You must have gone to great lengths to find an artifact like this, I would appreciate it if I could borrow them for one night."

_The jeans._ Hermione stared, unblinking, at her friend as she processed this. Ginny had told Luna about her success, and now _Luna_ wanted to use them? Hermione didn't think Luna would ever doubt herself. She couldn't help but have a sense of apprehension, imagining the various female dorms in Hogwarts discussing the magical properties of her jeans.

Seeing as Hermione had yet to respond, Luna added, "I understand we're not close, Hermione, but it would mean very much to me. You may have noticed I'm not _au fait_ with the boys in our year."

Hermione nodded absently, "I know the feeling." She was still reeling from the jeans coming up in conversation again, but soon shook that off. Guilty for being so reticent, Hermione grasped her hand, "We're good friends, Luna, of course I'll lend you what you need. Why don't you come by the Gryffindor dorms beforehand on Saturday to get ready? I can resize them if needed then."

Although she should have expected it, Hermione was still taken by surprise when Luna hugged her tightly, with a whispered, airy, "thank you."

* * *

When there was a party that involved inter-house mixing, they usually chose the room of requirement as the venue. It tended to be students who were in Dumbledore's Army back in Hermione's fifth year, but occasionally someone brought an external friend. Unfortunately, times had not drastically changed, and Slytherins were very seldom to be found on these nights.

Hermione wouldn't dwell on house unity now, she could not solve all the problems here at Hogwarts. Harry, Ron and Hermione had determined that this year they would try - _within reason,_ Hermione had insisted - to live as if they were normal students. As if their previous years at Hogwarts were painfree, as if the only drama was the gossip created by romance and rifts.

This particular evening, the room of requirement was decorated much like the Gryffindor common room. It was Dean Thomas' birthday, and therefore his choice for the decor. As much as she was pained to admit, the Hogwarts students were often not very inventive when it came to the Room of Requirement. She had spent too many evenings in a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor common room look alike.

Hermione would be quite content never to see the Slytherin common room, if rumours were to be believed. Honestly, what did teachers expect? If you house students in a dungeon, they're going to be a bit deranged.

She stretched her legs out in front of her, careful to avoid hitting Seamus who was leaning on the couch in front of her. Dean sat on the floor across from him and they were chatting about some muggle sport.

Harry sat next to her, his shoulder and thigh pressing snugly against hers. Part of her longed for him to stretch that arm over the back of the couch, giving her an opportunity to move into him slightly. She knew that was a disastrous impulse that she couldn't give into though. Hermione was just lacking in affection, that was all.

Ginny kneeled on the ground facing them, Neville beside her. If they all faced inward, the group of six could sit in a circle. As it stood, it was a messy scattering of people with no discernable shape.

"Stop thinking about potions, Hermione, I'm sure you scored perfectly," Neville reached over to tap her knee, drawing her attention.

Ginny laughed, "You can't tell Hermione to stop thinking about classes, it only ends with both of you in tears."

Harry smirked and added, "I don't know, Hermione's breaking the rules an awful lot now.."

"Are there any rules anymore, really?" Ginny retorted, referring to the fact that the sixth and seventh years were given a wide berth this year. Hogwarts was now full of grieving, wartorn and anguished teens. Some allowances had been made. Hermione was nearly sure Headmistress McGonagall was aware that Gryffindor occasionally sampled alcohol, but she definitely would not approve of parties in the room of requirement.

Hermione sunk a little lower in her chair, "I feel rotten enough lying to Professor McGonagall, please don't remind me."

"Lying by _omission.._ Barely lying at all,"

"I'll have to keep that in mind, Ginny," Neville said, the amusement in his tone clashing with his words. She stuck out her tongue at them and they began to banter back and forth, a demonstration of flirtatious foreplay that Hermione did not want to partake in.

Harry nudged her with his leg, "What's this I hear about you loaning Luna magical jeans?"

Hermione glanced at Ginny and knew she couldn't give away the woman's secrets. She shrugged instead, "You know what Luna is like. She gave me a daisy to put under my pillow for sleep."

"I'll have you know, Hermione, that Timore's are a very serious epidemic."

His face was comically blank, and although she wanted to keep the joke going, Hermione couldn't restrain the laughter that bubbled in response. This encouraged Harry and he sat up straighter, "Not to fret though, I will fashion a chain made of daisies to keep your nights peaceful."

Harry made Hermione's nights anything but peaceful. When she wasn't dreaming of his blank eyes in Hagrid's arms, she was dreaming about - well, no, never mind what else she dreamt about.

She felt her face heat at this thought, but allowed laughter to flow freely, "Okay, okay, you're good at pretending to be a ponce."

"A ponce? I don't think I've ever heard you use that word,"

"I don't think you've ever been a _ponce_ before."

He tipped his drink forward to clink with hers, "Touche,"

Without warning, there were a series of whistles and cheers. Hermione and Harry exchanged a look of confusion before standing, straining to see what everyone was whistling at. She heard Harry laugh and whoop before she saw it.

In the middle of the Room of Requirement, Ron Weasley stood locked in a sweet embrace with Luna Lovegood. His hands cradled her face, delicately, while hers hung loosely around his waist. As they realised people were cheering for them, they broke apart with goofy smiles. Luna immediately searched out Hermione and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. She pointed at the jeans and then gave another thumbs up.

Hermione returned the gesture with her hand and then shook her head. The jeans could not be publicised any more or they would have a waiting list.

She looked over at the couple again and smiled. They really did look happy.

* * *

Over the next several weeks, Hermione repeated the same action with three more girls: Lisa Turpin, Padma Patil and Susan Bones. She liked them all well enough and couldn't find a good reason to deny them the jeans. In hindsight, Hermione should have just denied the existence of the jeans with a condescending, haughty laugh. People would have bought that attitude from her.

It was beginning to drive her mental. If Ron thought she had been on the cusp before, it was nothing compared to now. Every time she saw any girl looking to speak to her, Hermione went out of her way to avoid it. She would have a few nasty bruises from running away and into objects if not for magic.

From the beginning, Hermione knew - absolutely, positively, definitively _known -_ that the jeans would haunt her. As she showed them to Ginny, watched the plan unfold, there was an uneasiness that settled into her stomach. A true sense of 'oh no, what have I done?'

Although the avoidance of the female population of Hogwarts was bothersome, the legitimate consequence came bounding up to her during one of the post-Quidditch victory parties. The Gryffindor room was rowdy as usual after their victories, with the team being surrounded by their housemates for games, shots and lively chants. Hermione was content to sit in the armchair by the fire for the most part, occasionally taking part, but mostly reading. Every now and again, one of her friends would come over to talk, and then get pulled back into the fray. Hermione didn't mind in the least; it was a night worth celebrating.

She couldn't help but watch Harry interact with his housemates, joy emanating from him. Judging by the large grins on everyone surrounding him, it was contagious.

Ginny materialised beside her and sat on the arm for a few minutes, sipping something that smelled far too sugary for Hermione. Eventually, the girl heaved a heavy sigh and said, "Ok, I forgive you."

Hermione glanced up at her, "Forgive me? You'll have to first explain what I'm apologising for, Weasley," Her body twisted in an effort to face the girl. Rather than respond, Ginny pulled her arm and guided her up to their dorm room. It reminded Hermione vaguely of the night they planned how Ginny would snag Neville.

She pushed Hermione down on her bed and disappeared into the pile of clothes on a chair beside it. With a cheer of success, Ginny pulled out a familiar pair of jeans. Hermione groaned upon sight, "Ginny, no, I'm sick of those bloody trousers, I'm going to burn them."

Ginny held up a finger, "First off - you will never burn these jeans. Second - I _forgive_ you for fancying the pants off Harry Potter."

Hermione gaped, a shower of emotions slicing through her as she tried to formulate a response. How could Ginny have picked that up? She had to know Hemione would never act on it, she would never ruin all her friendships like that. How could Hermione risk so many friendships for something as silly as a passing fancy? Ginny was looking at her with such sincerity that Hermione's heart battered relentlessly against her ribcage. "I - I don't know - you're not - that's.." Hermione buried her head in her hands then, willing tears to stay within ducts.

Ginny smacked her on the head, "Stop that. The boy clearly fancies you back, but you're both pants at this." She held up the jeans, "That's why you need _these."_

"Ginny, I don't - I don't _fancy.."_

Her expression softened, "It's okay, really. I noticed it a couple of months ago. It took me till recently to be okay with it, and that was selfish of me. I want you both to be happy, everyone does." She lifted a shoulder in an attempt to be casual, "It seems rather unfair that you two of all people would be kept apart while everyone else is having fun. Don't you think?"

"I'm not ready.. He doesn't like me like that."

"Of course he likes you, Hermione," Ginny responded, in a tone that suggested she was running low on patience.

Hermione hugged her arms around herself, "He doesn't _like_ like me, you know? I'm not you, or Cho, or any of the beautiful girls chatting him up. I don't think he even realises I'm a girl."

That earned Hermione a snort from her friend, "Piss off, Hermione. He's always around you, looking out for you, saving a seat next to him for you.. You were the only one he spoke to for about three days after everything."

From somewhere buried deep, Hermione pulled the fact that worried her most, that verified what she had always thought. She mumbled, "Sees me like a sister."

Ginny froze then before laughing uproariously, "Like a - like a _sister,_ that's hilarious. Shit, thank you for that. Oh, yes, just brother sister things, I always look for Ron first thing in the morning, and didn't you know he's the first person I go to with anything that happens? And we're so in tune, wouldn't you say? Finishing each other's sentences, like mind reading. Ron always understands me. He's always speechless when he sees me dolled up."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at that and Ginny held a palm out, "See? It's not brotherly. Stop saying that, it's weird for us with siblings."

She protested, pushed and tried to bargain, but Ginny would not accept any answer other than yes until Hermione changed into the jeans. She thought she was on the verge of a panic attack now, with multiple different elements of her life closing in on her. Hermione needed several minutes alone to gather her thoughts and make a plan. Christ, why wasn't she given any opportunity to make a plan? Did Ginny know her at all?

Before Hermione knew it, she was marched through the common room door and right out the portrait, "What are you doing?"

"Luna's going to tell Harry to meet us out here." Ginny answered with a grin.

Hermione shook her head, "Ginny, I can't do this, this isn't what you think. He isn't interested like that, we're best _friends,_ he would never notice me -"

"Harry will be out in two. You look lovely, Hermione." Luna joined them and gave her an exaggerated wink, "Nice jeans."

" _You don't understand,"_ Hermione finally cried, her patience worn, "I made it up! There is no magic spell, no charm, no bloody mystical trousers," She let out a loud, humourless laugh, "I mean how ridiculous does that sound now? And _everyone_ is so desperate to believe it when it's just - it's just.."

Luna wasn't fazed, "Of course the charm is real, I could sense the felix aura all around it."

She blinked. No, no, she wasn't doing this. She was not entertaining this. "No, Luna, I lied. I wanted you all to be happy and knew you needed a little push so I made it up. Viktor Krum came chasing me, I'll have you know, and I won't - I'm not going to ruin everything with… No."

Ginny appeared embarrassed, Hermione recognised the red ears as a Weasley trait. To her credit, instead of berating Hermione, she only inhaled, "Okay. Fine. If that's the case, all we needed was confidence. Do whatever you need Hermione, but you should know that all you're doing is hurting yourself."

"I'm not going to just waltz over and tell my best friend I want to snog his brains out because of a pair of jeans, Ginny," Hermine snapped.

She could see the ire in her friends face in that, probably about to point out the hypocrisy, but any rebuttal is drenched cold by a voice that left Hermione light-headed. Oh no.

"You - you _what?_ "

Hermione let her head drop, chin to chest, and breathed deeply. She distantly heard Luna and Ginny take their leave, scrambling to desert her and this awkward hell they created.

She steeled herself and turned, meeting Harry's eyes with trepidation. He was frowning and appeared confused, which was at least distracting her from how appealing he looked in his Quidditch uniform. Hermione cleared her throat, "So.. how much of that did you hear?"

Scratching the back of his neck, "Enough, I reckon."

Hermione wondered how serious an injury she would suffer from throwing herself onto a moving staircase. As she pondered this option, Harry chose to speak again, "I think Luna is good for him, Hermione. She's gentle."

All Hermione heard in the immediate aftermath was: _you're not gentle._ This thought was soon overtaken by a dull thudding in her ears as she came to the realisation that Harry didn't know he was the topic of conversation. He thought she liked Ron.

How could he possibly think that?

Hermione stood silently again, frantically trying to decide if she should correct him. She could ruin their friendship forever by confessing. Then again, if there was any chance of him returning her feelings, letting him think she fancied Ron ruined _everything._

In something shy of a whisper, Hermione at last said, "It wasn't Ron."

He straightened at that, eyes focused in on her. The intensity of his expression made her waver, and yet she could still not decipher what it meant. Hermione fell into easy habits then and rambled.

"I - well - Something changed in the tent. You're the only person I want to be around all the time. I think about you in the morning, I think about you at night," Hermione's entire body felt a bit hot at that, but she rushed on, "I assumed - I just - I thought it was because we were alone. It was because it was only the two of us, of course I felt a pull. But, Harry -" She threw her arms up in the air, surrendering to her feelings, "it's not just the two of us anymore and I can't keep pretending that I don't find myself thinking about you all day. There's no reason to do that anymore, right? At least I had an excuse before - Voldemort, remember? Of course you do, who doesn't… I'm getting off track, and you know why that is? I have no _plan,_ this - this is _not_ my idea,"

Harry was taking small steps towards her, mouth pursed and eyes tracing every inch of her face. Hermione was not enthused by this. He wasn't jumping for joy anymore, was he?

"You know what? I was wrong. Me, Hermione Granger, I was wrong. I can absolutely go back to pretending. Pretending is my favourite."

A smile ghosted across his face at that. He reached out and tucked back hair that she didn't think was that errant, but Hermione had finally lost the will to speak. Harry shook his head, "Come on, Hermione, we both know you're never wrong. I didn't really notice anything had changed until I realised I was missing you - sod it, all the time. In between classes, meals, when we said goodnight. How is that even possible? I hated the idea of you wearing those bloody jeans and chatting up some other bloke and - and -"

Hermione launched herself into Harry's arms then and kissed him soundly on the mouth. In shock from her own actions, she pulled back immediately, wide-eyed, and touched her lips. Both of them exchanged looks of surprise, feeling bashful, before fire ignited in Harry and he grabbed her by the waist. Held tightly, Hermione finally got her wish: her best friend snogged her brains out.

From a few metres away, Luna and Ginny peeked out of the common room portrait. Luna twirled a daisy around in her hand and gestured to them, "See? I _told_ you the jeans are genuinely magic."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was an attempt to break through my insufferable writers block. I wish it was shorter but alas...
> 
> So was anyone suspicious of the jeans while reading? haha
> 
> Also, the title is of course a play on the 'Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants'. Pants is more a US term for trousers than UK so I've changed it up.
> 
> If you could leave a review, that would be great please :)
> 
> CR.


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